For My Wife
When you think of romance, of love at first sight, you remember the blond
you ran into in front of the elevator or that long legged brunette secretary
that would give you silent smiles every morning when you asked her if you
had any new messages. Well, this is my love story. I didn’t meet her at a bar
scene, toss her my best pick-up line at a friends party, or even get stuck
with her on one of those oh so awaited blind dates.
If you asked me as a six-year-old boy when I sat next to her that day if I
knew from the time I saw her that she would be my soul mate I would have
cringed at the mention of the word “love”. Instead I would associate it with
the little girls that liked to follow me around, and my mother’s long kisses
with my father. Love was a no-no word to a child that young.
Yet I sat next to her that day and somewhere in the back of my mind I fell in
love with her. It was in Miss Wilson’s first grade class that I met her. We’d
been asked to draw a picture of our family on that first day, our teacher’s
way of saying she needed a break from our hectic activities. She sat Kayla
and me at the same table. Otherwise I wouldn’t have noticed her at all that
We both sat at the small table designated for coloring and other messy
projects when I reached across for the blue crayon. Blue was my favorite
color, probably still is today. After shuffling through our small stack of crayon
stubs and discolored wrapper fragments without finding the blue I looked
across the table at her.
“What’s your name?”
“Kayla, what’s yours?”
“Caleb. You have my crayon.” I pointed to the blue thing she had in her
“It’s blue,” she said looking up at me from under her long girlish lashes. “I
need it to color the grass.”
“Grass isn’t blue dummy!” I reached over to take the crayon from her but
she drew back.